We bought this house full of dreams and energy. We knew we got an impossible deal in a great neighborhood, and rolled up our sleeves to make this neglected bungalow a lovely home.

Then the dark clouds pressed us back, and a couple of years ago I gave up on so many of those dreams we once had and just learned to tolerate things as they are. I often surprised myself with how much I could get done, considering the state of things. But nothing comes free and the toll has been on my soul.

Now that things seem to be getting better (knock wood), CD and I finally had a real conversation about the house. Not just one of our usual drive-by not-quite-talk-about-it email exchanges where I send him links to Realtor.com and beg him to think about how miserable I am working and cooking in rooms that were literally falling apart around me.

I pointed out that we live in a fixer-upper that neither of us has felt like fixing upping in a long, long time. And we can afford a house that fits - all it would take is making the decision to move.

But CD made the case for one more try. Because he and Bear love this little, rickety house on this wonderful verdant block in Pleasantville and don't want to budge - even to a house nearby. Then, to put his money where his mouth is, last night CD moved my desk and equipment into our bedroom so we could gut and rebuild my office/guest room.

It was a tangle of wires and screws and plaster dust, but I am now settled in next to the bed. My morning commute is, quite literally, 3 feet away from my pillow.

I still want, desperately, to move into a house that fits. With a kitchen that isn't stuffed into a hallway, closets, and a second toilet for those times when Bear has GOTTA go.

And frankly, it may not even be in our power to fix up this house. A contractor must be used for the big stuff (like putting in the dormer for the second floor addition) and renovations will cost as much as a move. But maybe more importantly - we can't even get contractors to return our calls.

(At a birthday party for one of Bear's classmates on Sunday, one of the fathers recommended his contractor to us.
"Can I ask about how much you're planning?" he asked.
"70 grand," I responded, factoring in everything we plan to do.
"Oh," the father replied, grimacing. "I don't think the contractors I know do jobs that small.")

But as he passionately explained - CD's and Bear's eyes don't see the tight quarters, failing plumbing, bad wiring, blown fuses, bugs, mold, dust, and clutter everywhere. No. They see the dream we all once had, of making this little house our home.

And I could see it, too - if only reflected in them. So I agreed to work from this corner and sleep in that one. For a little while longer.

CD thinks we're in a place now where we can start again on so many long-neglected things. He has been working hard, and it costs me nothing to give him - and us, I guess - this chance.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:15 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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